


Hidden

by Ficlet_Sprinkler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: International Fanworks Day, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ficlet_Sprinkler/pseuds/Ficlet_Sprinkler
Summary: Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade have to work together to find Sherlock, who is hiding somewhere after an incident.Meanwhile, they discover things about each other which will influence their relationship forever...//This is a Mystrade Soulmate ficlet ♡
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 145
Collections: Mystrade Soulmates Week 2020





	Hidden

Mycroft heard the phone next to him ring. This was not unusual for him; he often got calls from the government, the CIA, the FBI… Anyone who needed his instructions. 

This time, however, he could feel that this call was not work-related.

"Hello, this is Mycroft Holmes," he spoke through the phone.

As soon as he heard the sigh on the other end of the line, he knew exactly what the phone call was about. 

"I understand. I'll be there in a minute."

He sighed when he hung up the phone, before getting out of his chair and calling up the driver. 

"Where to, sir?"

"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street,"

//

Detective Lestrade stood on the edge of a crime scene, watching as his colleagues ran around, accompanied by several emergency doctors. Once again, there had been a murder. It wasn't as interesting, though, as he'd solved it within an hour. The murdered man in question, had been killed by his brother. Several bystanders had been wounded as well, hence the many doctors present at the crime scene. 

This inexperienced killer had run into a cafe after committing the crime, the blood that stained his shirt covered by a hoodie. 

It wasn't a great feat finding him and proving his guilt.

Lestrade felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He answered the call, expecting to hear his boss call about another assignment. 

Instead, he was surprised to hear John Watson's voice through the phone. 

"What's going on?"

"...I understand. I'll be there in a minute."

He rushed away from the crime scene, hearing sgt Donovan call after him, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Baker Street. 221B Baker Street," he responded, while he got in his car, and briskly drove away. 

//

"I don't know how it happened! I just turned around, and I saw this," John said, gesturing at the mess in front of him.

"I don't care  _ how _ it happened, Doctor Watson. For all I care, it broke while there was too much  _ movement _ in the bed." John's face turned bright pink at this comment, but Mycroft ignored it. "I just need you to know, that your actions have consequences. I had to come all the way over here, just to console him. I've got better things to do with my time,"

"Oh, of course. Of course you find consoling your own  _ brother  _ a waste of time!" John snarked. "That's all he ever is to you, isn't he? A waste of your time?!"

John would have surely hit Mycroft, if it weren't for Lestrade coming in.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down John." He stood in between the two men, preventing anything else to occur. 

"What is going on over here?" he asked them.

Mycroft stared next to Lestrade, into John's eyes. John stared back angrily. 

"Thanks to Doctor Watson, my brother is off sulking."

Lestrade looked between the two men.

"Uhm, what did he do?"

"Sherlock didn't do anything. It's all my fault. I wasn't paying attention, and before I knew it, well…" John moved away, revealing the mess behind him.

Sherlock's violin, broken in half. 

"Oh."

"Mm. And now, Sherlock is off sulking, god knows where,"

"Well, did he say anything before he left? Any clue to where he might have headed?"

John scoffed. "Other than the string of profanities he threw at me? No, nothing."

Lestrade gave John a compassionate smile.

"It's okay John. You just stay here, have a cuppa, and rest up. We'll get Sherlock back,"

"Cheers. I think I actually need that…"

Mycroft, however, looked affronted.

"Hold on a moment. 'We'? Who's 'we'? I'm not coming with you, I've got more important matters at hand. Besides, I'm not a detective, unlike my brother. I wouldn't be of any help! It's better if I left,"

"Well, no. I think I could use the help. The rest of the police force is busy with another case, and this is Sherlock, so… I doubt they'd be of any help. Please, could you help me? You probably know him better than I do."

Mycroft pondered over this. He  _ did  _ know his brother very well, and he'd probably be able to find him in a pinch. And -though he wouldn't admit it- he did need to know his little brother was safe. 

"Fine," he said eventually. "I'll come with you."

Lestrade smiled gratefully at him. 

"And I believe you're Greg Lestrade?"

"Yes, I am." Greg grinned at hearing his first name. "You're nothing like your brother."

//

Greg and Mycroft made a list of places Sherlock could have run off to (Mycroft's list was considerably longer than Greg's), and soon they were in a cab together towards the first location. 

"St. Paul's church? You think Sherlock would go to a church?"

Mycroft shrugged. "It's the church where our parents got married. My brother might not seem like it, but inside he's a quite sentimental soul. This church represents the most loving relationship he's ever come across. I think deep down… he wants what our parents have,"

Greg frowned at the thought of Sherlock being sentimental. But in hindsight, it explained a lot.

"You know your brother really well," he said. 

"And yet I rarely interact with him." Mycroft smiled sadly. 

"Why not? You seem to care about him a lot…"

"No, I don't."

Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft. 

"Really?... I think you do. It's okay to say so, you know. I actually think it's good, to care for your siblings like that,"

Mycroft looked at Greg, who thankfully couldn't see his expression, because he had turned to look out of the cab again. Mycroft smiled. 

"Good. Thank you,"

// 

When they arrived at St Paul's, it was quickly apparent that Sherlock wasn't there. Mycroft had to simply let the people know who he was, and they all promptly started searching for his brother. Greg gawked at him the entire time, amazed that Mycroft had this much influence, while he himself was a detective inspector. You'd expect he would have more influence than… whatever it was Mycroft did for a living. 

But he wasn't even jealous. He just admired the man more. 

"He's not here." Mycroft trotted towards Greg, swinging his umbrella back and forth in his hand. 

"He's… who's not here?"

Mycroft squinted at him. 

"Sherlock Holmes? The one we're trying to find... Are you alright, Greg?"

"Oh, of course! Sorry, I must have got distracted… I'm alright,"

"Okay… good. We should head to the next location."

Mycroft briskly walked to the car. 

Greg was left thinking, 'What just happened?', before entering the car, deep in thought. 

//

They went through the list quite quickly. Apparently, they made quite a team; the detective and the influencing man. Soon, they arrived at the final destination: St. Bart's hospital.

"Should've guessed this was the location," Mycroft mumbled. 

"Why, do you think he'll commit suicide again?" Greg responded with a laugh. 

When Mycroft met his eyes with a serious look, he continued: 

"Oh my god, do you? We have to get up there, we have to stop him!"

"He's not going to commit suicide, Greg."

Greg let go of the car door handle. "Oh,"

He coughed awkwardly. "Then why did you stare at me like that?"

Mycroft looked down. He frowned, before looking at Greg again. 

"What's that on your arm?"

Greg's eyes widened and he instinctively pulled down his sleeve. "What's what on my arm?"

Mycroft sighed and pulled up Greg's sleeve with the tip of his umbrella. 

"Right there."

Greg looked horrified. His eyes went back and forth, not knowing where to look. But one thing was for sure: he could not bear to look into Mycroft's eyes now.

He took a big breath, gathering his courage, before pulling his sleeve up all the way.

It read: 'Holmes'.

"Is that…?"

"A soulmate mark, yes."

Mycroft gaped at him. 

"Only about 10% of the population has this!"

"I know."

Mycroft took Greg's wrist in his hand, slowly turning it around to examine it from all angles. Greg flinched at the sudden contact. 

"Sorry." Mycroft quickly let go.

"It's okay. Everyone in my family has this. They're all born with the last name of their soulmate tattooed on their wrist. But because mine was such a common name… I guess I gave up on trying to find them,"

Mycroft looked at the man in front of him, looking like he was trying to decipher a code. 

"So… What about Sherlock? Is he your-"

"He's not my soulmate," Greg promptly cut him off. "At least I hope not. No, we're all assigned one soulmate and I think we're both well aware that Sherlock has found his." 

Mycroft nodded in agreement. There was no question about that. 

"I thought that if it wasn't him, it must have been one of the thousands of unknown people whose last name is Holmes," He glanced at the man next to him. "But I'm not sure now…"

Alarm bells sounded in Mycroft's head. What, who, where, why, what?? Could this really be happening?

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he had the chance, he was startled by a knock on the window behind him.

"Let me in," a muffled voice on the other side sounded. 

Mycroft opened the door and was greeted by Sherlock pushing him out of the way so that he could sit. He got pushed directly into Greg.

"What on earth, Sherlock?" Mycroft exclaimed, trying his best to hide the blush forming across his cheeks. 

"Thank you for getting me. I need to go home now, to John." He turned around to face the two men. He did his quick deductions and added: "Oh. Sorry to interrupt your snogging. Although, I'm really glad. Always embarrassing seeing your parents being all lovey-dovey,"

A bright red blush formed across Greg's face. 

Mycroft didn't seem to notice it.

"What do you mean, 'parents'?"

"Well,  _ you  _ always act like you're my mum, and Lestrade always acts like he's my dad. So yes: parents. Now  _ please,  _ for the love of god. Get me home to John,"

Mycroft signaled the driver to head back, and they stayed in silence for the rest of the ride. 

//

While Sherlock and John were reunited, Mycroft and Greg lingered outside. They did  _ not  _ want to be witness of John and Sherlock's 'reunion'.

The tension between them was unbearable, and eventually Greg couldn't take it any more. He had to speak. 

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier. I didn't mean to drop a bombshell on you like that,"

"It's… fine. I didn't think it'd even be real, to be frank,"

"So, what? You think I scribbled your last name on my arm while you weren't looking?" Greg laughed. 

Mycroft laughed along and looked at the man affectionately. Then his expression turned more serious.

"I suppose you're right," he mumbled. "I just… wanted to know."

He looked at Greg again, and he noticed that he looked nervous. Nervous… nervous for what? Although, deep down he knew. 

"Do you really think… I might be…"

The end of that sentence didn't need to be said. The words already lingered in their minds:

_ 'Do you think I'm your soulmate?' _

Greg looked the man before him in the eyes.

"Do you want to find out?" he whispered. 

A silent agreement was made between the two of them. Mycroft nodded ever so slightly, stepping forward towards the man in front of him.

Greg tilted his head, closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss on Mycroft's lips.

He pulled away again and looked into Mycroft's eyes. 

The kiss was a promise; a promise that told them,

_ 'Let's see where this leads us'. _

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing Mystrade! It was a lot of fun ♡  
> As always, thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate it!  
> Please leave a comment telling me what you think, I love comments :)  
> Have a lovely day!


End file.
